Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  A saccharin smile spread across Winchester’s face.

  She gave Dorian the side-eye.

  “Off?”

  Kirsten smiled at her ghostly partner.

  “Well, what is it you have to tell me then?” Senator Winchester sat and leaned back in creaking leather.

  Dorian walked through the desk and put his hand into the senator’s ear.

  Winchester’s left eye twitched, and he rubbed the eyebrow.

  “Are you all right, Senator?”

  “Mild headache. You’ve been causing a little stress lately, as well as my daughter.”

  Kirsten nodded. “I understand. I’d like to make a deal with you.”

  “What manner of deal?” He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had anything to negotiate with. Here I thought you were coming to apologize and humbly ask me to call off the audit. We do have to make sure our taxpayers’ credits are being used properly.”

  Dorian made faces as if reaching around inside the man’s head looking for something. He winked and smiled once his hand stopped moving. “Found it. Internal power cell has a lot of juice. I can’t kill it, but I can turn it off as long as I’m touching it.”

  “Of course, Senator. We appreciate your concern that our books are in order. It is true that my attempt to investigate the murder of Charles Prentice has encountered some difficulty in establishing a concrete link back to you. However, I did have a little help from one of your colleagues in the Senate. Alas, I’m not at liberty to say who.” The name ‘Susan Forsyth’ leapt to the tip of his brain, followed by a fleeting daydream of his unfulfilled desire to punch a fiftyish woman with thick brown hair after she threatened to expose a shady connection between him and Intera Corporation. “Sh―the person seemed rather interested in learning about this little situation.”

  Senator Winchester glared; redness spread across his face. “You think I don’t know you’ve made contact with Forsyth?”

  Dorian chuckled.

  Kirsten thought about her mother long enough to add some genuine emotion to looking frightened. “Uhh. How could you possibly know that?”

  A trace of victory glimmered in his eyes. “You don’t get to where I am without being able to find things out.” He pounded his fist on his desk and pointed at her. “Whatever you think you’re going to accomplish working with her, think again. Forsyth is only looking to use you. As soon as you give her what she wants, she’s not going to help you survive the fallout.”

  “Nice, umm, ‘accidental’ slip there.” Dorian winked.

  “You don’t give her enough credit,” said Kirsten. “She’s pointed us at a few individuals who might’ve been your proxy dealing with Mardrake. Division 9’s got their ears perked.”

  The senator’s lips peeled into a rictus grin. That bitch doesn’t know Flynn. She probably thinks I used Ludwig or Bale. “You don’t think I’m concerned about Division 9 do you? Is that supposed to unsettle me? What’s your endgame, Lieutenant? I understand you’re blonde, but you don’t actually expect me to publically admit to having anything whatsoever to do with some dead home electronics technician, do you?”

  “Well, I suppose since you’re so well connected, you’ll find out anyway. Carter’s got some friends in C-Branch, and they sent me a nice little dossier on a couple of people who’ve done some work for you. Ever hear of a guy named Ludwig? What about Bale?” She held her arm up and opened a holo-panel. While she read over her notes concerning Lamb’s liver diagnosis, she tapped the intangible screen (and tried to ignore Dorian’s laughter). “C-Branch poked Ludwig with a sharp stick and he mentioned another name we haven’t quite been able to put a face to yet. They’re after someone named ‘Flynn’ now. If he talks to Div 9, game over.”

  Senator Winchester’s eyes seemed about to explode out of his head. He pointed at her again; his surface thoughts leapt between the start of tirades threatening to do everything from get her thrown out of Division 0 to charged with treason and executed… but he was sure Niall Flynn would never admit to anything. The man was a consummate professional.

  Kirsten frowned at her holo-panel, and turned it off. “There can’t be too many guys named Niall in the UCF. I will give you credit, Senator. I never saw the reason you went to such obtuse lengths to hide that Seraphina is your daughter coming.”

  The face of a woman formed in his mind, early forties, light brown hair, delicate… she could’ve been Marguerite’s mother. His dread fear of an affair with a sitting CEO―Jeanette Favreaux―one third of the power in ACC-controlled France going public plunged his brain into chaos and pulled all the color from his cheeks. Winchester seemed astonished Kirsten had unraveled Seraphina’s false memories of a prostitute mother, security he’d arranged from a Syndicate telepath.

  “I warned you…”

  “Yes. Yes you did.” Kirsten nodded. “You threatened my son. I’ve been going over and over what you said about understanding your reasons for doing what you did, about how laws don’t mean anything when you’re protecting your child.”

  He glared, still-pointing finger shaking.

  “Are you trying to give him a stroke, Kirsten?” Dorian indicated a thick vein pulsing in the man’s forehead with the hand not embedded in the man’s skull.

  “I’ve decided to bend the rules a little bit today, Senator, because I’m protecting my child. You, on the other hand… there’s a problem. You’re not protecting your child. You’re protecting your own ass. She looks a lot like Marguerite. Favreaux?”

  Dorian cringed. “Ooh. Direct hit. His brain just got warmer.”

  Senator Winchester rubbed his forehead, grimacing as if from a pounding migraine. “You really think you’ll be able to do anything with that information before it’s too late? I tried to be pleasant with you, Lieutenant… but you kept pushing. Six months from now, I guarantee you all psionics will be off world or hiding in the Beneath. Division 0 will be a memory. And that boy of yours―”

  “About that…” Kirsten glared. “I realized something else, Senator.”

  Winchester folded his arms. “Oh, what’s that?”

  “I’ve been trying to play your game.” She raised her hands as if in surrender. “You win. I don’t have enough evidence to survive an Inquest. Even with the new information I’ve discovered, I don’t think Division 9 is going to be confident enough to act over… as you said, one lowly home-electronics tech.” Kirsten tapped her finger on her chin. “Though, that mess with Intera might get their attention… but that’s way out of my scope. I want you to know that my mistake was playing your game. You make all the rules in that game. Laws. Judges. Police. Society. All of it is under your thumb. I can’t beat you, and I don’t intend to try.”

  His right eye twitched as a grin bared his teeth. “So, you just came here to get my blood pressure up? I said that blonde thing as a jab, but I never expected you to prove it correct.”

  Kirsten held her arms to the sides. “I’m not playing your game anymore, Senator. There’s something you need to know.”

  Theodore walked in through the wall. He looked normal to her, except for an aura of wispy energy around him.

  “What the―?” Senator Winchester blinked. “Who the fuck is that?”

  “Senator,” said Theodore, offering a hand. “Name’s Theodore. I hear you’re quite the asshole. Nice ta meet’cha.”

  Winchester didn’t reach up, staring with an open mouth.

  An old man with silver hair and a bodybuilder’s physique hidden under an expensive ancient suit walked in and stood on Kirsten’s right.

  “This man used to be Governor of California.” Kirsten smiled at the older man. “A long time ago. Centuries in fact.”

  A dark-skinned woman in military fatigues arrived next, also surrounded by the strange energy. The assault rifle in her hands predated caseless ammunition.

  “Private First Class Anita Shaw. Killed in action on May 19th, 2017, Iraq.”

  “Am I late?” asked a thin, balding man in a turtleneck. H
e cocked an eyebrow at Winchester and glanced at Kirsten. “Is this the fucking dickless asshole threatening your kid?”

  “Meet Steve,” said Kirsten. “He’s been a ghost since 2011.”

  “Ghosts…” Winchester’s eyes snapped left and right as four more of The Kind faded near the outer wall.

  A cloud of strange herbal fragrance surrounded a long-bearded man in jeans and a cowboy hat who looked every bit as ancient as he probably was. “Politicians never change.” He took a long pull on a hand-rolled cigarette.

  “What is that?” asked Winchester.

  “Marijuana, jackass. Figures you bastards don’t legalize it until after I kick off.”

  “Hi, Willie,” said Kirsten.

  Senator Winchester broke out in a cold sweat, eyes bulging. “Ghosts? What’s the meaning of this?”

  “You need some new lines,” said the Governor. “Even mine were better than that.”

  “Senator.” Kirsten walked around the desk and loomed at him as much as a short girl can loom. “I’m not playing your game anymore. If you do anything to hurt my son, no lawyer, no judge, no soldier, no politician is going to be able to protect you.”

  Theodore seized the Senator by his lapels and lifted him out of his chair on tiptoe. “This yer first time seein’ a ghost?”

  Winchester punched and flailed; his hands disrupted Theodore’s body to vapor for an instant wherever they passed.

  “I’m only solid when I want ta be. An’ if that’s breakin’ yer skull open”―Theodore leaned nose to nose, and snarled―“So be it.” He flung the senator against the shelf behind the desk, knocking several small statuettes and plaques over. “Fuck wit that boy, you’re gonna answer to The Kind.”

  “I’m the only astral sensitive within two thousand miles,” said Kirsten. “And the only one on record capable of harming a ghost… but you know that already, don’t you, Senator. Tell me what you think the odds are that I’ll get here in time to stop them… not that I’d be inclined to.”

  Winchester fixed his shirt and adjusted his suit jacket smooth with a sharp tug. “You’re daring to threaten me? A sitting senator?”

  Kirsten smiled. “I didn’t threaten you. A four-century-old ghost did. Make that a couple dozen ancient ghosts. Go ahead. Start up some legislation to declare ghosts dangerous and illegal.”

  Willie and the old veteran laughed.

  “This is what’s happened to politics?” asked the Governor. He waved dismissively at Winchester and scowled. “Bah. It’s a good thing I’m already dead.”

  “You broke the law to save a daughter you supposedly care about, but you won’t even admit to having.” Kirsten rounded the desk and poked him in the chest with her finger. “She’s going to kill herself because she thinks you don’t want her. You say you love her, but you don’t. You give her cheap organs and you’re going to sit here and watch her take her own life because you love your political career more than your child.” Kirsten looked away and down. “I don’t have enough to send a damn thing to Division 9. The evidence I do have would raise some eyebrows, but that’s about it. You’re right. I can’t make legal trouble for you, but there’s worse waiting for you on the other side.”

  She locked eyes with him. Her mind filled with the memory of a swarm of Harbingers engulfing the soul collector ghost from the Saguaro Asylum. The man in the tattered doctor’s coat screamed and reached out from the roiling mass of vaporous black bodies, a tornado of infinite darkness that dragged him down through the old, dusty floorboards.

  Telepathy shared the images.

  Winchester wheezed, clutching his hand with the psi warning device as he slid down the shelf to sit on the floor. “W-what did you do to me. You… did something, I know it.”

  “I let you see one of my memories. I don’t know how much you believe about what happens after death, but those entities are Harbingers. They gather the souls of men like you, Senator. I don’t want to know what happens after that.” Kirsten looked down. “I can’t make legal trouble for you, but it’s not me you should be worrying about.”

  “What do you want?” He shivered.

  “That it for this then?” Steve checked his watch. “I’ve got a thing.”

  Kirsten smiled at The Kind. “Thank you all so much. I’ll always be there if you need me.”

  One by one, the ancient spirits waved, and walked off into the walls.

  Dorian attempted to grab the Senator’s arm. He glared with severe focus, clamped his hand shut, and succeeded only in making the man shiver again.

  “I want your daughter not to kill herself. If she does, Charles is going to come after you. It might take him ten years to build up the strength to do anything, and again, you’d have to hope I got there in time.” Kirsten offered him a hand. “Accept her publicly. She won’t care if you keep the identity of her mother a secret.”

  “Better to set up a fake,” said Dorian. “Less temptation to find the mystery woman and discover the truth.”

  “Good point.”

  “What?” asked Winchester. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “I was talking to a ghost. You’re worried they’ll find Favreaux. Hire someone to be the mother. Hell, have your wife claim her. You’ve obviously got a thing for waifish French women… maybe your wife would enjoy a trip to Reinventions to make her look a little more like Seraphina.”

  Dorian laughed.

  Winchester let her help him up. “That’s it? All this was to get me to claim Seraphina?”

  “Also, you’ll have her own tissue regenerated like you should’ve done in the first place. Once Charles’s lungs are out, they’ll be cremated and returned to his ashes. You’ll contact Robert Lamb and arrange for his liver regeneration as well, the same with Julia Dominguez and her heart, and a man named Sanjay your daughter knows. In return, I forget everything I never found about your involvement and we can both keep smiling for the cameras.”

  Winchester flopped in his chair, hand over his mouth in thought.

  “He’s either going to accept, or pull a gun out of that drawer and shoot you before taking his own life,” said Dorian.

  She tensed her legs, ready to pounce.

  “And those…” He waved his hand around at the empty room. “Things won’t bother me? You’ll stop them?”

  “They came here to protect Evan. All it takes for you never to see them again is not to fuck with my child.” She narrowed her eyes. “Understand?”

  “What about that… Harbinger nonsense.”

  Kirsten raised her hands and shook her head. “Way above my pay grade. I have no idea how dark your soul is or how bad they want it. That’s all on you. How interested they are in someone depends on that person and that person only. I can ask them to come and look, but I can’t make them pounce on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

  Winchester looked up at her. The silver creeping over the hair by his ears seemed to have spread farther up. “Any more demands? Nothing for you?” He cocked an eyebrow with a sarcastic sneer.

  “No thanks, Senator. I’m good. Take care of your daughter.”

  He grumbled and let his hand fall away from his chin to his desk. “Fine. Give Marguerite the information to contact those people.”

  “Sir?” Marguerite leaned in.

  “Please tell Seraphina to clean up and make herself presentable for travel. I will be taking her to Amaranth Medical. Also, schedule an appointment for my wife at Reinventions of Paramount City.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask her first?” Kirsten blinked.

  Winchester chuckled. “She’s been trying to talk me into it for months already. She wants to be thirty again… might as well.”

  Dorian grumbled.

  “Also, prepare a press release. Come up with something about my daughter having spent her childhood in protective seclusion to keep her away from the news hounds.”

  Kirsten fought the urge to grin, allowing herself a contented smile. “Thank you, Senator. I think you should go tell Seraphina yourself.
On a deep, internal level, not seeing you charged for Charles’s murder bothers me, but I know there’s nothing I can do about it. If you take care of what I’ve asked as you say you will, I’ll keep everything quiet.”

  “I should hope so.” Winchester smirked. “This entire meeting wouldn’t look good for you if it got out either.”

  Kirsten smiled. “Probably not, but who’d believe there’s so many ghosts in West City? Judges and Inquests are funny like that. Say the word ‘ghost’ once, and everyone starts looking at you like you’re insane. Oh, you also might want to avoid mentioning Harbingers on the NewsNet. Somehow, I doubt that will go over well.”

  He gave her a flat look.

  “Good afternoon, Senator. Thanks for making the time to meet with me.” She saluted him, and exited without waiting for any reaction.

  irsten walked at Laney Prentice’s side, passing a long, curved wall of burgundy marble squares. Each twelve-inch tile bore a grave number and name as well as birth and death dates. Many had holographic candles flickering in front of them. Gloss black floor came alive with shimmering blobs of light reflected from the LEDs in the ceiling; to the right, a grid of window squares formed the outer wall of the ring-shaped mausoleum complex. The vaulted atrium carried the hushed voices of mourners visiting loved ones.

  Laney carried the rectangular urn, to which they’d added the ashes from Charles’s lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, and eyeballs.

  Charles’s spirit followed at a distance, looking around at random whispers, reacting to the voices needling at Kirsten’s eardrums. Perhaps a third of the cubbies held spirits annoyed at the constant visitation of other people. Kirsten caught herself smiling at Dorian’s remark that it reminded him of a nursing facility for the elderly―people bitching that no one visits them, but everyone else has family coming all the time.

  “I can’t believe he paid for everything… how did you do that?” Laney looked at the ash container. “Are you sure it’s better to put his ashes here? I’d rather keep him home.”