by G. K. Lund
Another flash of green and I could feel the vibrations from it in the glass. I turned and saw Saphia breathing hard, staring daggers at us. It was one thing escaping her lightning, another using her own office to do so. She hated us now. Getting away with murder didn’t seem to matter anymore.
And then, a softening of the muscles in her face. Eyes narrowing slightly, the corners of her mouth moving up a little.
“That can’t be good,” Olivia said as she came to stand beside me. “Oh no,” she added as we watched the woman step back a few paces in the hall until she came to stand beside a panel in the wall.
“What is it?”
Olivia shook her head. “An electric panel. Connected to alarms and the whole system of the building I’m sure. Shit. She’s going to electrocute us with whatever it’s connected to in here.”
I looked around and let go of the door to the detective’s protests. “Don’t. She’ll just come in if we leave the door.”
We stared out at the woman as she looked for something on the panel, and then back at us. Her smile was horrible.
“The couch,” I said, glancing at the piece of furniture situated to our left. Maybe we could avoid contact with the green bolts if we tried, but I doubted it. I saw Olivia nod, and then Saphia placed her hand in front of the panel, spreading her fingers as she sent the green flashes into it.
Olivia and I bolted for the couch, expecting the searing pain to hit any moment. The green flashes began out in the hall… and stayed out there. I got one foot on the couch as I stopped and noticed something was wrong. The lightning, now looking like green flames, struck back out from the panel, mixed with yellow sparks. The flash burst from the wall and enveloped Saphia, lifting her and slamming her into the opposite wall. A smudge of blood stained the glass as her hand hit it, and she fell to the floor, limp and pale. Smoke rising from her.
“Holy shit,” Olivia blurted as she stood on the couch and stared in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth half open. The panel still spluttered and fizzled sparks that luckily did not land on anything flammable. “We need to help her… I think.”
“We do?” I followed Olivia but was not all that convinced. Turned out I was right.
A jerk of Saphia’s injured hand stopped us both in the doorway. We heard her groan in pain as she moved her hands, seemingly with little control before coming to her senses. She slowly lifted her upper body from the floor and I heard Olivia inhale sharply next to me as she drew her gun again. Saphia, like me, had bad burns where the green flashes had hit her. The side of her face, her already hurt hand. It stretched from wrist to shoulder. Her stomach and leg. Almost her whole left side. Her long hair was singed away on that side as well.
“Saphia, listen to me,” Olivia said, raising her voice a little to be heard over the snaps and pops from the electric panel. “You need help. Let us.”
Saphia looked up and saw us staring at her. She coughed and winced at the pain, barely looking at herself. She had to know it was bad. “Fuck you,” she wheezed and tried raising her arm.
“Wait,” Olivia countered. “You need to hear something.” She tapped the screen of her phone before she bent down and sent the thing sliding along the floor toward Saphia.
“What the…?” Saphia’s voice trailed off.
“Saphia?” the voice in the phone came through the loudspeaker.
“Ward?” She halfway moved toward the phone, but the pain stopped her and she sank back on the floor. “I’m sorry, Ward.”
“I know you are, but please don’t hurt anyone else.”
She was fighting back tears, trying to keep it together at the sound of his familiar voice. “I was trying to protect the company. You.”
“I know. But you can’t do it like this. You have to let them go.”
“I just miss him so badly. And I owe you so much… and I thought you…”
“Listen to me, Saphia. I’m almost there. Just hold on and we’ll fix this.”
“Fat chance,” Olivia murmured beside me.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Ward. I’m so sorry,” Saphia said, her voice breaking as she forced herself to crawl forward to the phone. She disconnected the call before Winter could say anything else. She looked broken in more than one way as she tilted over on her side, curling up a little, leaning on her unburnt elbow.
“Saphia,” Olivia said and stepped forward. “Let me help you.”
I followed her, a familiar feeling descending on the body. No. On me. A pressured tingling in the already hurting head, though not the same as the pain in the leg. I walked forward, past Olivia, saw her as a shadow. I recognized this. Knew I needed to be there. Felt like I truly was. And I remembered the hospital. The old woman.
“Someone is going to die,” I said, the voice strange and cold, almost not attached to the body. The green lightning flowed in front of me somewhere, but it was beyond me. Something else was there. Something I belonged to. As Olivia fired her gun, I saw Saphia’s once beautiful face looking up at me. Recognizing me. Then she convulsed, her body twisting even though she wasn’t there anymore.
I looked down at her lifeless body, her still striking green eyes staring at nothing. Blood oozing from two wounds in her chest. It followed her outstretched hand before streaming away from her. I turned to Olivia who stood three steps behind me, gun in her lowered hands, looking at me and not the dead woman. Her voice was calmer than her words and the disbelieving look in her amber eyes. “What are you?”
Chapter 39
“Seriously. What was that?”
I was under intense scrutiny as Olivia stared at me, Saphia forgotten for a moment. It didn’t last long as the door leading out to the main stairs burst open and black-clad and armed men came running onto the floor. Olivia raised her gun at this horde of shouting men as they poured through the hallway. I barely heard Olivia shout at them to lower their weapons, as their yells of the same kind flew the opposite way as well. We both stood frozen as the men descended upon us, shouting, aiming their weapons. We had been attacked by someone who could shoot green and burning lightning at us. The guns seemed almost a non-threat. Almost.
“Put your gun away, Ma’am.”
“Step away from Ms. Bishop.”
The yelling was incessant as they spoke over each other, but we got the point. Olivia holstered her weapon instead of handing it over. She glared at the man who wanted to take it from her. When he didn’t press any further, it became clear they didn’t mean us any harm. That did not mean they listened.
“I’m a police officer,” Olivia protested. “This whole damn building is a crime scene.”
“Step back, Ma’am,” the man insisted, two of them forcing us to back up until we again found ourselves in Saphia’s office.
“What’s going on?” I asked as the men shut the door, effectively trapping us in there.
“Winter’s security I bet,” Olivia said as she folded her arms and took in the scene outside the office. “A bit more elite than the ones manning the entrance every day.” Eight men in total, big and burly. All of them armed. Two of them checked Saphia for any vital signs while the rest secured the floor. At the same time, the door to the main stairs opened again, revealing a man in a suit this time. One of the security men went to meet him, and they talked as they strode down the long hallway toward us and Saphia. It could be no other than Winter. Lean build, maybe six feet, sandy blond hair, a face that revealed little except for not taking his eyes off Saphia. He stopped listening to the other man as they neared her, and he walked silently the last few steps before stopping next to her. He looked down at her in silence, no hint of surprise at neither her appearance nor demise. Lying there she seemed small compared to the living gathered around her. He must have known from the way she had ended the call. Suspected at least.
One of his men said something, and Winter nodded and looked around. The floor was covered in scorch marks on the walls and floor, papers, shelves, and drawers scattered around. Drops of blood from Saphia’s
wounded hand. The man kept talking to his boss and pointed toward us, Winter turning to his directions. As he laid eyes on Olivia he looked relieved. A dead cop would likely have caused more problems than a live one could. Then he glanced at me, his eyes uninterested and moving back toward Saphia, before jolting back to me. A slight widening of the eyes… and nothing more. He glanced at Olivia again, and then down at his dead friend. Eyes hidden from either of us.
He knew.
He recognized me.
Like Param, except the panic.
I inhaled sharply at the realization. “I need to talk to him,” I said and headed for the door.
“Now?”
“Oh yes,” I reached for the handle and a giant of a man placed himself in front of the door, keeping it closed from the outside with his weight.
“Apparently not now,” Olivia remarked as she came over. “The longer they keep me in here the more issues they’ll have with the department.”
I recognized her words for the alliance they were. She absentmindedly rubbed her hurting shoulder and smiled at me. It certainly took a lot to get on her good side, but it was better to be there though.
We watched Winter discuss something with his men as none of them looked our way. Then, finally, one of them walked over and the guard outside the door stepped aside.
“Detective Jones, my name is Cort. If you’ll come with me?”
“Why?”
“Obviously there are some things your employer won’t believe?”
Olivia gave a puff of air as she rolled her eyes. The man was right though. Talking about a woman shooting lightning from her hands? It might not have astounded me, but no one would believe this.
“Not you, Mr…?” Cort said as I made to go with Olivia.
“Reed,” Olivia said before I could. “He’s with me.”
Cort looked me over and then shook his head. “He is not a cop.”
“Obviously… still…”
Cort shook his head. “He needs a hospital.”
“No, I don’t.” I made to leave the office again but was stopped by both Cort and the other guard getting in my way.
“Get him to a hospital,” Cort told the other man over his shoulder.
“Hey, I—”
“We wouldn’t want you to lose that leg now would we, Mr. Reed?”
Outside I could see Winter with his back to us, talking to a couple of the men out there.
He knew who I was. Param had been right. He could help. But he didn’t want to. Why? Fear? There had been a second when he’d been too surprised to hide it.
“Ben,” Olivia said, drawing my attention back. “He might be right. That burn looks bad.”
So much for having Olivia on my side. She realized they were trying to get me out of there. And she had decided to let them. Before I could even respond, the big guard grabbed the arm and pulled me out of the office. I winced at the pain in the leg as I was made aware of it again. The man was too strong and the last I saw was Olivia’s apologetic look as she followed Cort out toward Winter who had his back to all of this. Shortly thereafter, the emergency-exit door closed behind me, and the man who knew who I was, the one who was supposed to be able to help, vanished from sight.
Chapter 40
“I’m gonna go and find Peter and Walter. Something must have caught their attention.” Rose gave the leg a skeptical look and bit her lower lip.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.” The leg had been treated and bandaged. It was still painful but not as bad as when it had happened. I patted the front of the leg, the denim soft under the hand, to make my point. “It’s still attached.”
Rose nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes and then we’ll go.” She headed for the door as there came a knock. “Oh… Detective Jones?”
“Yeah. Is Ben here?”
Rose furrowed her brows a moment at this change in tone from the last time they met, but nodded and stepped aside so she could come in. She gave me a glance over Olivia’s shoulder as she walked past, but I made the mouth smile. No need to run for Walter this time. Rose shrugged and left the room.
“Hey,” Olivia said as she came closer, her eyes taking note of the injured leg, not that there was much to assess now that I wasn’t wearing jeans that hung in rags from the knee down.
“How’s the shoulder?”
She moved her left arm less when she walked. The impact of the metal drawer had caused pain that would not dissipate just yet.
“It’s working,” she said and sat down on the bed next to me, feet dangling as they didn’t reach the floor. “And your leg?”
“Second-degree burns. No grafts or anything, but the doctor says it will scar.”
Olivia tipped her head. “Scars work wonders with the ladies.”
“So what happened yesterday?”
She snorted. “Do not tell me you don’t remember?”
I smiled. “No, I mean after they had me dragged out.”
“Ah, that. I don’t think Mr. Winter was happy to see you.”
“No… and I don’t know why.”
“Neither do I.” She pursed her lips a moment. “Anyway, I spent most of the time afterward agreeing with what to tell my boss.”
“No green lightning, huh?”
“Nope. A series of fires. Problems with the electrical system. Which is sort of true.”
“And Saphia?”
“She did try to kill us…”
I nodded my agreement. “She did.”
“Anyway, you weren’t there.”
“And the cameras?”
She smiled at my not arguing or questioning this decision. “The cameras seem to have malfunctioned as well. Something about the circuit.” She shrugged. “I’m not an electrician.”
“Neither was Saphia.”
“True.” She inhaled deeply and got off the bed in a half jump. “I’ll leave you to it.” She glanced at the door and made me aware of the voices of Old Ben’s friends approaching. “But I have many, many questions for you, Ben.”
“I’m sure.”
Rose, Walter, and Peter took me back to the apartment. After a night at the hospital, which I suspected was due to Rose and concerns about my mental well-being more than the injury, I felt okay walking in that door. The place might not be my home, but it had become familiar. Safe. A place where I didn’t risk seeing various people’s deaths, whether in the present or in the past. Safe. Calm.
I settled in as the other three bustled around me, hovering in the kitchen, turning the TV on, talking and fussing. Not knowing what to do I finally settled on an armrest on the couch, staring blindly at the screen that showed people stating what was wrong with both mayoral candidates. A puff of air sounded as Peter slung himself onto the couch, beer bottle in hand.
“Hopefully it’s not drugged,” he said before twisting the cap off and glaring at me.
“I didn’t drug you,” I said. “Besides, are you sure you weren’t just drunk?”
Peter took a swig before answering. “That guy drugged me. What did he tell you anyway? I remember him claiming to be the dead priest.”
“More of the same,” I said. Why lie? Peter would not believe Param anyway.
“Then why did you end up at Winter Fortress?”
I stood up and walked over to the windows. If he wouldn’t believe me, I didn’t want to talk about it. Why waste the time? “Because of something Param said. Winter can help shed some light on my memory problem for me.”
I could hear the snort behind me and didn’t remain to discuss it further. Instead, I opened the door to the small balcony and stepped outside. Cloudy skies and a cold but weak wind greeted me as I grabbed the railing and glanced down. People were still bustling around on their never-ending errands. I looked with envy upon those exiting the coffee house with that tasty, invigorating liquid. The comforting smell. The warmth between the hands when the air was cool. Such a simple thing. I sighed and closed the eyes. Didn’t know why I was trying. Slowed the br
eath. Relaxed. Focused on severing every connection.
A few minutes later, I opened the eyes again, the sight of the gray neighboring building filling the vision.
I was stuck like this.
Like Param was stuck in his never-ending cycle.
No way out. No way to change this.
Would I end up like him? Alone, half-mad and drunk? Isolating myself from everything? Collecting memories as years went by like he collected artifacts to remember himself? And all the while I would be stuck in this meaty thing that felt like a piece of clothing that didn’t quite fit. Almost, but not truly.
I sighed and went back into the apartment. Peter had vanished from the couch, but I could hear low voices from the kitchen so I moved closer, stopping just out of sight as I heard Old Ben’s name mentioned.
“All I know is… he talked to this deranged guy who I’m certain drugged me, and then he runs off to Winterland to talk to the guy who owns half the city.”
“Are you sure you weren’t drunk?” Rose asked. I could hear one of them stirring something in there, the whisk clacking against the bowl.
“Come on, Rose. After two beers?”
“What worries me more,” Walter broke in, “is that he turns up in the hospital with a burn wound he apparently got because someone spilled hot liquid on him? And that cop who wanted to arrest him is now friends with him instead? She sure changed her tune.”
Maybe when it came to the murder case, but not when it came to me.
“Yeah,” Rose concurred. “None of that seems normal. I’m worried. He’s not been himself since the accident—”
“Accident?” Walter remarked pointedly.
“You know what I mean.”
“You can’t expect him to be himself if he doesn’t remember anything,” Peter said.
“It’s not that. I get that he doesn’t remember. I do. But everything is… off about him. Like he’s not… him anymore.”
