Relentless

by Robin Parrish

  ‘‘Yes?’’ he whispered.

  ‘‘Your presence is required.’’

  ‘‘Devlin,’’ the Thresher replied in recognition, still whispering. ‘‘Been a long time.’’

  ‘‘Too long. I’ve been made aware of your recent movements. You must meet with me, at once.’’

  ‘‘If you know what I’m doing, then you know I’m at a critical stage. I’ve no time for . . . guidance.’’

  ‘‘The Secretum disagrees,’’ Devlin replied without emotion.

  Below, a door opened and a man carrying a large bag exited.

  ‘‘Very well,’’ the Thresher said, snapping the phone shut.

  He let go of the walls and plummeted to the ground.

  Landing without a sound, he rolled to absorb the impact. While on his back in midroll, he kicked the man with the bag.

  The man landed sprawled out on all fours a few feet away. He immediately looked up to find the Thresher towering over him from a few feet away, his sword out and pointed right in the man’s face. But the blade was turned sideways, and the bag of food hung from it, unspoiled.

  ‘‘This is the third consecutive Friday morning you’ve made this delivery,’’ the Thresher said in his soft inflection, holding the sword perfectly motionless.

  The young man on the ground was in complete shock, trying to reason out what had just happened. And more importantly, how.

  ‘‘Where are you taking it?’’ the Thresher asked.

  When Lisa walked into Daniel’s hospital room bright and early that morning, she was surprised to see him sitting up in his bed. He’d slept the entire previous day, and the rest seemed to have done him well. The swelling around his eyes had gone down, and he could finally see her again.

  A nurse was feeding him.

  ‘‘Lisa!’’ he nearly shouted, spewing Jell-O everywhere. ‘‘There you are!’’

  ‘‘I can’t believe you’re up!’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘Are you okay?’’

  ‘‘Better now that you’re here,’’ he replied weakly.

  Her heart did a back flip.

  ‘‘I went by the office to pick up some things for you, and then I had to call Gordon. May I?’’ Lisa asked the nurse. The nurse smiled in reply and handed her the tray of food. In a moment, she was gone.

  Daniel was rooting around inside his mouth with his tongue. ‘‘Huh. I think I’m missing a couple of fillings . . . and the teeth they filled,’’ he said, lost in thought. When she sat next to him, he snapped to attention. ‘‘Why’d you meet with Gordon?’’ he asked evenly. ‘‘And why do you have bruises all over you?’’

  She’d hoped to wait a while before telling him everything, but he seemed much more coherent now and clearly wouldn’t accept a postponement to this conversation.

  ‘‘You weren’t the only one that was attacked,’’ she said.

  His face registered horror.

  ‘‘I’m okay. No permanent damage. My car is a thing of the past, but I’m good.’’

  He winced and put an arm over his chest, where the cracked ribs were. ‘‘Gordon?’’ he asked again through the pain.

  Lisa sighed. ‘‘The lab’s been ransacked by the police. A forensics unit pretty much tore the whole thing apart, piece by piece. Gordon said there’s nothing we can do—they had a court order, and they’ve declared the entire premises a crime scene. It’s gone, Daniel. I’m sorry.’’

  He looked down, unable to meet her gaze. But instead of despondent and inconsolable, he seemed rather resigned.

  ‘‘What?’’ she asked.

  Daniel hesitated, then offered something that might have resembled a smile. ‘‘Doesn’t seem all that bad, compared to being nearly beaten to death.’’

  She winced. Thinking about the attack and how it must have felt was something she couldn’t bear to dwell on.

  ‘‘And the other thing is,’’ he said softly, ‘‘this terrible thing meant to harm us might be for the best, all things considered.’’

  ‘‘How can you say that?’’ Lisa nearly came out of her chair.

  ‘‘I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything is traceable to cause and effect.’’ He sounded for a moment like his old self.

  She threw a quick glance outside the room’s door. He nodded.

  ‘‘Drexel,’’ he concluded. ‘‘This was about Drexel trying to get to Borrows. All of it.’’

  ‘‘I think so, too,’’ she nodded. ‘‘We could probably never prove it, but I think he paid some thugs to attack you, to give him a legal excuse to search our office. He wants Grant’s file.’’

  Alarm flashed across his face. ‘‘Did you get rid of it?’’

  ‘‘I burned it,’’ she said and then held up a blank CD. ‘‘Encrypted, too.’’

  ‘‘Good girl,’’ he patted her hand, and leaned back, resting his eyes. He let out a long, painful breath, concerns and troubles fading into pain and exhaustion.

  She wished she could simply let him rest, but he needed to know. ‘‘Daniel, the police have stationed a cop outside your door at all times. For protection.’’

  Daniel looked up at the door sharply. Then he looked back at her, and what was left of his complexion under all of the scratches and blotches turned completely white. ‘‘He wouldn’t . . .’’ he whispered.

  She turned and looked back out the door again. ‘‘I don’t think you can stay here.’’

  Daniel started breathing faster, which caused him pain in his chest again. ‘‘But I can’t even move!’’ he gasped. ‘‘The doctor just told me that I’m going to have to relearn how to walk! He said it’ll take months of physical therapy. My ankle may even need another surgery.’’

  He looked at her and then back at the door, fear and desperation all over his face. ‘‘What are we going to do?’’

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, as everything rested on her shoulders for a change. She wasn’t used to being in this position and was in no way convinced she was capable of doing something like this alone.

  ‘‘We’ve got no choice. We have to get you out of here.’’

  31

  Grant had just started the Corvette’s engine, Julie in the passenger seat, and begun to back out, when he hit the brakes.

  ‘‘What?’’ Julie asked, hurling forward into her seatbelt.

  ‘‘It’s her,’’ Grant said, staring into his rear-view.

  Julie’s head spun around. All she could see was a denim jacket and simple black T-shirt, standing right behind the car.

  He got out of the car; Julie followed suit.

  ‘‘There’s this guy who’s in danger and could use your help. In a tothe-rescue kind of way.’’

  ‘‘So?’’

  ‘‘So, that’s what people with abilities like yours do, buster,’’ Alex replied, mildly annoyed. ‘‘Or at least, what you should be doing.’’

  Grant rolled his eyes. ‘‘I don’t have time for this . . .’’

  ‘‘Neither does the guy who needs your help. I know you’re all consumed with this ‘quest for answers,’ but don’t you think it’s about time you started putting this awesome new ability of yours to good use?’’

  Grant just stared. He couldn’t believe he was getting a lecture on who to be from this woman.

  ‘‘There,’’ she said, letting out a long breath. ‘‘Any of that get through? It was, like, my civic duty or whatever.’’

  ‘‘A for effort, C for delivery.’’

  ‘‘All right, then let me try a different approach,’’ she said, crossing her arms. ‘‘Go see this guy who needs your help . . . and I’ll tell you who was responsible for your Shift.’’

  ‘‘You know who did this to me?’’

  ‘‘Of course she does,’’ Julie jumped in. On Grant’s look of astonishment, she added, ‘‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? She works for him.’’

  Grant paused. ‘‘Is that true?’’

  Alex surveyed Julie. ‘‘Home run for the rookie. Look, there’s not much time. Go do whateve
r it is you’ve got to do, but meet me at St. Frances Hospital by sundown. And watch your back.’’

  ‘‘That’s my job,’’ Julie retorted.

  When Grant and Julie emerged from the long hallway full of books and into the Common Room, he spotted Morgan and Fletcher sitting in the lounge area, on opposite sides of a chess board. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but given how heated Fletcher looked, it wasn’t hard to guess.

  Grant took his sister by the hand and led her across the floor. Many of the Loci customarily stopped to stare as he entered the room.

  ‘‘Ah, Grant,’’ Morgan smiled warmly. ‘‘Good to see—’’

  ‘‘Wonderful,’’ Fletcher groused. ‘‘He’s back.’’

  Grant wasted no time. ‘‘These are for you.’’ He handed her Julie’s college textbooks. ‘‘Can we talk in private?’’

  ‘‘Certainly,’’ she replied, rising from her seat. Fletcher was about to protest but Morgan just held up a hand.

  Grant followed Morgan through the Common Room. Eyes followed him and the room buzzed.

  ‘‘Do they have to do that?’’

  Morgan looked up. The Loci were still standing about the room, watching them as they exited out into the hallway. ‘‘They intend to be witnesses.’’

  ‘‘Witnesses?’’

  ‘‘To what you are going to do. They mean not to miss it.’’

  The small white room she led him to contained a countertop, cabinets, an examination table, and a couple of tiny, uncomfortable-looking chairs. She sat in one and invited him to sit in the other. As before, she waited for him to speak first.

  Grant gathered his thoughts before opening his mouth.

  ‘‘I need some advice,’’ he began. ‘‘I think I’m developing . . . feelings . . . for Hannah.’’

  A hint of a smile played at the corner of Morgan’s mouth. ‘‘I see,’’ she said in an unsurprised tone of voice.

  ‘‘Am I nuts to want to pursue something like this now? With everything that’s going on?’’

  Morgan allowed herself one full breath. ‘‘Attraction, passion, love . . . these aren’t my area of expertise. But if I may be so bold . . . your entire world has fallen apart and rebuilt itself into something unfamiliar, Grant. It’s only natural that one of your most fundamental human needs—to be cared for—is going unmet, and that you should attempt to fill that hole. My advice would be to be careful that you genuinely feel for her as you think you do.’’

  Grant considered this, something piquing his curiosity. ‘‘Sounds like solid advice. So, uh . . . what makes you think you’re not good at this sort of thing?’’

  ‘‘Experience,’’ she replied. ‘‘I don’t seem cut out for romance myself. My last relationship was . . . well, it was devastating. Goodness, it’s been ages since I’ve talked about it.’’

  The hesitancy in her voice made Grant wonder if she always played this role of advice-giver, but rarely had anyone to open up to herself. He felt for her in this position, everyone looking up to her, depending on her. It was a notion he was beginning to identify with.

  ‘‘What was his name?’’

  She smiled. ‘‘Payton. I met him after the Shift. He was another like us—another Loci. Payton went through the Shift about two years after I did. He was the very first person I met who had undergone the Shift as well. The joy of finally meeting someone else who knows what this feels like! Well, it’s overwhelming, isn’t it?’’

  Grant settled back in his chair, listening quietly.

  ‘‘We fell in love very quickly,’’ Morgan went on. ‘‘Perhaps too quickly. It was around the same time that I first discovered the existence of the stone tablet—or rather, the fragments that make up the tablet. Collecting them became my passion, and Payton picked it up quickly as well. He and I spent years flying all over the world—Argentina, Malaysia, Tibet, Zaire, and dozens of other countries—following any leads we got our hands on that could lead us to more of the fragments. We turned up quite a few of them—most of what I have now, what I showed you— came from that trip.’’ She looked away, tears forming in her eyes.

  ‘‘Something went wrong?’’ Grant offered.

  She nodded. ‘‘Payton and I had found evidence of another fragment buried in a cave in France. The French government refused to allow us to dig in the caves—the location is a historical landmark—but we did it anyway. I suppose we dug too deep. There was a cave-in. Payton pushed me clear, but I had to watch as he was buried under a pile of enormous rocks, only inches from where I lay. I tried with all my might to dig him out, but the boulders were too heavy. I tried to find help, but there was no one in the area. So I went back in and found his hand protruding clear of the rubble. It wasn’t moving, but I held it until I felt it go cold. And then . . .’’

  She trailed off and he watched her.

  ‘‘I ran. I just panicked. We had no permission to be there and too many questions would uncover our plans. I loved Payton with all my heart, truly I did. But I’d always led a quiet, uneventful life until the Shift. And I never would have had the nerve to go on these globe-trotting adventures alone. Payton had a vibrant, infectious personality. And when he died and suddenly I was completely alone . . . I didn’t know what to do.

  ‘‘Leaving him there was the hardest and worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I couldn’t bring myself to go home to London, so I ran away here, to the States. And I entered a deep depression that lasted for years.’’

  Grant could hear the bitterness, the brokenness in her voice, and he realized this was something she’d held inside for a very long time.

  ‘‘After I reached the States,’’ she said quietly, ‘‘I didn’t have it in me to continue the search for the tablets myself. The weight of what I’d done bore down on me, and I just wanted to hide. That’s when I first began thinking of a place where I and others like me could live in seclusion, safe from the cares of the world.’’

  ‘‘Hiding from the world doesn’t make it go away,’’ Grant said softly. ‘‘I’m beginning to realize that.’’

  She nodded. ‘‘I know it as well. Yet I hide anyway. Part of me really is afraid to step out into the world, fearful of who else might get hurt or what I might cause. Mostly, I’m just too ashamed to leave this place. The pain that was born in that cave stays with me every moment of every day. My ‘miraculous’ perfect memory won’t let the pain fade. The thunder of the rocks as they fell. Payton’s screams. The jagged rock edges my fingers scraped as I tried to dig him out. The dust that burned my eyes. The warmth—and then the cold—of his hand, as the life ebbed . . . I still remember every detail.’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ Grant said. There was nothing else to say.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled. ‘‘Thank you for listening.’’

  There was really nothing else for her to say, either.

  32

  Grant was eating lunch with his sister in the asylum’s dining room when Hannah entered the room. She sauntered her way in their direction and helped herself to a seat.

  ‘‘So . . . I’m not your girlfriend, huh?’’

  ‘‘Huh?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Back at the military base. Evers thought I was your girlfriend, and you were about to tell him I wasn’t.’’ She flashed those beautiful teeth before stealing one of his french fries.

  He backpedaled. ‘‘That’s not what I . . . I mean, I’m not opposed . . . I just didn’t know what to—’’

  ‘‘Relax, darlin’. I just like watchin’ you squirm.’’

  Grant didn’t laugh, though she was clearly enjoying herself. Instead, he turned to his sister, growing serious. ‘‘Could you give us a minute?’’

  Julie nodded and walked away.

  ‘‘What’s up?’’ Hannah asked, leaning on top of the table, as if waiting to be filled in on the latest gossip.

  ‘‘Why are you so determined to help me?’’ he asked quietly. ‘‘I need to know the truth.’’

  Her ey
es narrowed. ‘‘You saved my life. That ain’t reason enough?’’

  ‘‘It is, it’s just . . .’’ he grappled for the words. ‘‘I have to know why a cat burglar would want to help a total stranger? I mean, say it out loud and doesn’t it strike you as strange? Tell me why.’’

  ‘‘I got no big noble explanation.’’

  He considered this. ‘‘Then tell me who you really are. Inside.’’

  Hannah sat back in her chair, uncertainty written across her face. But she seemed to be determined to indulge him. ‘‘I’m still tryin’ to figure that out. Growing up, I was a brat. Spoiled little rich girl and the apple of my daddy’s eye.’’

  She looked away, collecting her thoughts.

  She cleared her throat. ‘‘Mom passed when I was seven, and I was all he had left, so he showered me with attention and gifts and love. It ruined me, of course, but not a day or an hour goes by when I don’t think of him. He was bright and funny. And very brave. He was everything I wanted to be.’’

  ‘‘Was?’’ Grant said.

  ‘‘He was killed when I was sixteen. Assassinated, in fact. He was a senator, believe it or not. He led the fight on some kind of bill about . . . actually, I can’t remember what it was about. It don’t matter now. Someone out there didn’t like what he had to say,’’ she said, with a far-off look in her eyes.

  ‘‘So how does a straight-laced politician’s daughter turn to a life of crime?’’

  ‘‘Took the scenic route,’’ she offered a wry smile. ‘‘And I never said I was straight-laced.’’

  ‘‘The scenic route?’’

  ‘‘I went into foster care at sixteen. Ran away a few months later. Fell in love at nineteen. Found out the guy I was in love with was a drug dealer when I saw him get his head blown off by a competing dealer. Went to the police, helped them track down the killer. Testified in court, the whole nine yards. Guy got off, not guilty, ’cause the testimony of a destitute runaway couldn’t stack up against his mega-lawyer squad. It was after that, that I started seein’ the world in all its splendid shades of gray. If there was no justice in the world, if people you love could get killed right in front of you and no one cared if they got away with it . . . then what did anything matter?’’