"Woman—," Raja started with a shocked tone. But he stopped. The look in her eyes froze him.
"Did she hold you when you were a child, your head to her chest, murmuring soft words while you cried against her? Did she pick you up when your father hit you and smile at you while you slept in your bed? Did she tell you she would love you until the sun died?"
She stepped closer to Raja and lowered her voice. "Did she save you when you cowered in fear at your father?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but instead swung on Jebediah. The light created shadows in his face where his jaw clenched.
"Your guilt covers you like a cloak, Jebediah. It drags on the ground and makes your steps heavy. You're weary, not because of your years, but because you carry the weight of shame. Because of your child and your wife. Do you want someone to tell you what you did was okay? Is this you, showing everyone you'll be there when a man is needed?"
She strode up to Jebediah. Her eyes were large and wild but her hand had stopped trembling.
"Do you want someone to forgive you?" she asked him. "And do you think if you just stop now, the Rakash's will let you and your son live?" she whispered. She stepped back and spoke to each of them in turn.
"You had a mother that cared for you as best she could. Loved you even while her heart broke at what happened to you. You had a wife and child that gave you a home. They loved you. You both had a family."
"I never knew a family!" she yelled. "It was ripped from me along with everything else on a filthy floor by monsters. And the ones that could have given me back something, anything, turned me out instead, used me to pay for a house and whatever else they needed. Because I was dirty and not good for anything else. At least you had someone. You think you know pain? My hurts are decades old and they bleed like they were from yesterday."
"But here you sit, with your head down like little lost boys. Go into battle like this and you'll die. Worse yet, you'll fail, and the monsters will win."
"You have to push it all away and bury it deep. If you don't, it will kill you. Take your hurt and place it into a fire. Then let its warmth drive away your shame and your fear," she said.
"Take your pain and turn it into your power. Pain ends, one way or another. We aren't meant to carry it forever. But if you stand still, it will root you to the ground and consume you. Do what you have to, because we need you to save us."
"Mei is dead. She died saving Magda. She died saving me," she sobbed. "She died saving you. Now go save her family."
She started to walk back to the door. Both men stared after her. She paused and turned.
"Mei left money hidden around the city. She made sure we could run if we needed. I'm taking Magda with me to gather it up, and then we're going to leave the Hinge. I don't know where to yet, and I wouldn't tell you if I did. I'll take care of her. It's what Mei would've wanted."
She turned back to the door and spoke with her back to the men.
"Stay alive long enough for us to escape," she said.
Both men looked at each other with muted expressions. They'd been given something to move them, but it wasn't enough. Not yet.
Jebediah picked up his gun and placed it into its holster.
"I need to go do something," he said.
"What?" asked Raja.
"I need to go see my son," he replied.
Raja nodded with understanding.
"What will you do, Raja?" Jebediah asked.
"I'll be here, waiting for you to return. Be quick, Jebediah. This night won't last forever."
"Can you help me get some things?" Jebediah asked. Raja nodded yes. The bounty hunter told him what he needed and where to get it. It was close and would take little time. Jebediah left.
Raja found himself alone. He thought a moment, then walked out to the balcony. He wanted to see the Wall and the flicker of the stars one last time.
Chapter 24
Jebediah's shadow stretched into the room. He looked silently into the dark. His son lay on a bed pushed against the corner under a window, wrapped in blue blankets even though the room felt warm to his father. David got cold easily, just like his mother, so Jebediah asked the nurses to always bundle him up. Next to him, a small machine, the same one from Dr. Gaal's hand-drawn picture, silently beamed light over his boy's prone body.
The hissing of a respirator was the room's only sound, its circling motion matching the up and down swelling of the boy's chest. His face was pale and painfully thin. The intravenous line gave little beyond simple survival.
Jebediah bent and kissed his head. He lingered for a moment just to breathe the scent of the boy in. The bandages wrapped around the child's scalp felt rough against his lips. Under that gauze was a wound that would not heal, a jagged dent that kept him from waking up. His only son, the boy who'd stood his ground against the neighbor's Doberman when it charged at his mother, who'd cried at the end of the movie Titanic.
After several moments, he moved from David and sat in the brown lounger next to him. He laid a few items onto the room's old wooden desk, among them a piece of paper and pencil, then pulled it over close to him. He thought for a moment about turning the room's lights up but stayed seated instead. If his boy's eyes couldn't open, then maybe it didn't need to be so bright.
He picked up the pencil and wrote in an uneven and messy script most people wouldn't have been able to read. He thought that was okay though. There were only two people he'd want to show it to. One was dead, and the other needed nurses to move his legs to keep the worst of the bedsores away.
And when he shed tears, where his pencil scratched across the paper, he paused only briefly to brush them to the side. He wrote:
Cassandra,
You won't be where I am going.
The place where violent men go, is not for you or David.
But, I am not ashamed of what I've done. What man wouldn't punish those that hurt his family? Wouldn't tear from them the same screams they caused in you, or return their fear tenfold? I take comfort those who hurt you will be with me. And if I'm able, I'll push them deeper into hell's fire.
I've been angry for so long. Angry at you for not wanting me, angry I could do nothing to change things except attack others. That anger warmed me over the years. It was food to a starving man, a bitter and endless meal. But I am almost full.
Almost.
We yelled at each other. But, there were times when the trouble fell behind us and good moments filled the hours between any hateful words. I hold to those times.
I wouldn't have quit on us, and I've never felt I was better without you, than with you. Because even with the fighting, you were my wife. And because hating you never stopped me from loving you.
If I'm granted any mercy, I'll see you a final time before the shadows claim me.
If I could choose, it would be on a rocky path leading up, flanked on both sides with a green field, blanketed with roses set in groups of five. David would walk next to me, hand gripping mine, tall and free of pain. We'd crest the hill and the wind would change, bringing with it a scent of lilacs. And we'd hear the sound the ocean makes when no one is afraid to swim.
Then, in the distance, we'd see the flapping of a pale skirt and the flip of dark hair against a deeply tanned neck. We'd start to hurry, passing with wonder a small house with a purple broken gate, and know that inside was a child's room kept safe with small green army men.
We'd reach the woman and she would turn. She would have dark eyes and a radiant smile.
It is, of course, you.
David would bury his face into your skirt, then finally let you go. I'd see both of you together, laughing and well.
And then I would hold you, just for a moment, and tell you I was sorry. For my love being poor payment for your grace, for you being with a fighter when you deserved a poet. You wouldn't need to tell me anything. Just smile and kiss me, one last time.
And when the shadows come for me, to give me the punishment I deserve, I'll close my eyes from their
rage and torment, think of this last time….
And dream a dream that never ends.
You were everything to me. Everything.
He took a deep breath and placed the pencil down. His hand brushed against the black and glistening gun lying on the table next to him. He picked it up, held it for a moment, then wiped it down the length of his pants in one long motion before flipping it up and over into his holster. He stood and put the letter into the binder of papers next to his boy's bed, gave him a lingering look, then walked to the doorway.
He paused and turned around.
"What's at the end of everything?" he asked, giving his son a sad smile.
"The letter G."
He closed the door. The slim light from the hallway spilling into his son's room narrowed more and more behind him. Then, finally, the room went dark.
Jebediah Creek never saw his son again.
Raja sat on the balcony and stared up at the starry sky, backlit by the pulsing and shifting Wall. He spoke to the only person that ever really mattered.
"You never teased me."
He paused and took a breath, then wiped a shaky hand across his mouth, now suddenly gone dry.
"You never made fun of me. Even a little bit. No small jokes, nothing. And you never played along when anyone else made fun of me either. Never smiled when Father would make one of his stupid comments about me."
He paused. "A lot of things would have been better for you if you'd done what he wanted."
"I can't count the number of times you told me I was special and smart. And you always made me feel that way, because you really thought I was special and smart. When I got older, you'd remind me of it, all the time. You'd tell me when the house was dark and we'd sit outside and watch the Wall. Like I'm doing right now, only now you aren't with me. Because I messed things up so bad, because I was too scared to be a grown man, because I was so scared of my father, I let him hurt you. And I am so ashamed."
He searched for any memory of kindness from his father, but found none.
"I'm not afraid of him anymore. I'm goddamn angry, but I am not afraid. He's gone mad, and I have to put him down."
He took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked up again and shed tears for his dead mother, crying for a childhood lost.
"You never laughed at me," he whispered.
From high atop the roof of the building Flint alternated between watching Jebediah's return and Raja's rant against the sky. He turned his gaze to the same starry night that bore witness to one man's silent letter to his dead wife, and a knifeman's confession to his dead mother.
But for him, those stars did not remain silent. They shifted and morphed, twirling and condensing, until shaping themselves into the form of animals. One was a great lion and the other a hunched jackal.
Flint glared up and rage flowed from him.
"This doesn't need to happen. Neither of you know what the outcome will be. You don't know if this will stop the Adversary. It is all just a grand, sick guess from you both. There is no certainty to any of it."
The lion opened his mouth wide and gave a giant roar. The psychic force slammed into Flint and dropped him to his back as if a giant hand struck him.
"You overstep, angel. Yours is not to question, yours is to obey. Obey!" Flint struggling up, but on the last word, spoken by the spirit like a scream, he was pushed back down to his knees.
The jackal gave a titter and lolled its tongue. "The angel cares for the tools. It wants to be their mother. Will you wrap them up and coddle them in your wings, angel? Your burned away, misshapen wings?"
"What will this mad plan of yours accomplish?" Flint asked. "You told me to mold them, to sharpen the tools, not destroy them."
Flint, still on his knees, lowered his head, and when he spoke again his tone was begging. "Please. There has been enough death. He doesn't need to die."
Silence was his only response. Both animal totems stared off into the distance. Flint knew they were studying both men with cosmic eyes while contemplating the angel's words.
Finally, the lion broke the silence. It spoke with a muted growl instead of its previous roar.
"There is always a sacrifice, angel. Remember your own great flood? Whether rushing waters or searing fire, a price in life must always be paid."
"There will be no further discussion," the jackal said with annoyance. "The wheel turns and time grows short. Even now the Adversary approaches. What are these lives to those of the cosmos?"
"They're the ones who've given great payment counted in agony's coin," Flint argued. "They are the lives of men who've lost their souls and are trying to regain them—to find some measure of grace. They are the guard dog that became a wolf, and the wolf who became a guardian. Please. There must be another way."
Drops of light spilled from Flint's eyes. The angel's tears rolled down his face like bits of lightning, only to shatter into tiny motes of incandescence when they struck the ground.
"Do you want me to do this thing?" the Jackal asked Flint. "Give me your form and I will do this simple deed. Give me your hands that I may rend and tear. Set me to do this work."
Flint shuddered at the thought of loosing that chaotic entity on the earth.
"No," Flint said, shaking his head. "If it must be done, then I will do it." The angel came to his feet.
The Lion and the Jackal looked at Flint, then, in an explosion visible only to him, they blossomed outwards into stars again, blinking at the angel with simple, uncaring brilliance.
Flint brushed at his pants to remove the dust and dirt, then wrapped his long coat tight around himself. It was small comfort against the bitter wind that rose to tug at him and chill his bones.
Jebediah knocked lightly at the door pane. Raja came to his feet with his usual, graceful motion. The bounty hunter pretended not to notice the knifeman's reddened eyes and hastily wiped face. He supposed no man likes to be caught leaking.
"Did you find what I wanted?" he asked Raja.
"Yes, it's over there," he replied.
Jebediah walked to where Raja pointed and opened two large duffel bags. He examined the contents and nodded with satisfaction, then looked over to Raja.
The other man was strapping extra knives to his chest in a black bandolier. He moved so fast the blades seemed to fill the holders almost by magic.
Jebediah reached into one of the duffels, pulled out a tactical vest with embedded armor and strapped it on. It was made to be lightweight and still left him nimble. Then, he rapidly hand-loaded multiple magazines with 9 mm rounds. He stuffed the filled magazines into built-in holders along the side of the vest.
He checked both his side arms and holstered them. Finally, he lifted a shotgun over his head and strapped it to his back.
He left the remaining items in the duffel. They'd need them later.
"You understand the plan?" Jebediah asked.
"I do. It's a good one. It's the only one that might work," Raja replied.
"You're sure you can do it? This is your family."
Raja shook his head. "No," he said. "They are not."
Jebediah nodded. "Us two against an army. You realize this is all insane, right?"
Raja quirked a rare smile. "I bring knives to gun fights. How stable do you think I am?"
Jebediah chuckled in spite of himself.
"Are you ready?" the knifeman asked.
The bounty hunter took a deep breath, then said, "Yes."
Raja put a hand on Jebediah's shoulder, then brought out his locket. And for a final time, he spoke the word that activated the magic.
"Home."
The golden bands of light exploded outward to cover himself and Jebediah.
They re-appeared within eyesight of House Rakash. Jebediah, unused to the jarring transport moving him miles in an instant, momentarily lost his balance. He grabbed Raja's arm to steady himself.
Raja looked up at the mansion, then took a moment to stare at the large, mist-shrouded lake behind them.
&
nbsp; "Home again," he whispered, reaching across his chest and adjusting the bandolier of knives. His hands came to rest on the two larger blades at his hips.
The two men stared at each other for a moment. Neither one would ever admit to moving first, but they found themselves reaching out and clasping hands.
"We are at the end, Jebediah," said Raja.
The sound of a bullet cycling into a gun's chamber rang out. Jebediah thumbed the safety off and walked toward the castle of House Rakash.
"Almost," he replied.
Behind them the fog began to rise from the lake. Its tendrils drifted out and covered the men like ghosts in the mist.
Chapter 25
Mathe tapped one of his poker chips and stared at the man across from him. He was trying to read the other man's hidden cards. Two of the other guardsmen had folded, and it left him wondering if the last player was really sitting all that strong.
The lucky bastard had won the last three hands by everyone else folding, so he hadn't had to reveal his cards. Mathe was pretty sure he'd been bluffing, but he wasn't certain he wanted to pay to see.
The pot was huge, though, and the thrill of "what if" was large within him. And, he didn't want to look weak to the crowd of soldiers in the barracks surrounding them either, watching the game with intent eyes.
"You're bluffing," Mathe said. "I think you got nothing."
"Come find out," the other player replied.
"Call."
Mathe dropped his remaining chips onto the pile in the center of the table. There was an audible intake of breath from the guardsmen watching.
The other players face was inscrutable, and Mathe bit his lip when the man started to slowly lay his cards down, one at a time. Three cards were down and half a straight was staring up. But there was sweat on the man's mustached lip, and he was hesitating to lay down his two remaining cards.
"I paid to see them. Put 'em down," Mathe ordered.
The other player started to drop his cards.
Jebediah's Crime: A Heroic Supernatural Thriller (The Hinge Series Book 1) Page 20
